The Picture of Perseus Gray
by HemlockStones
Summary: Based loosely on The Picture of Dorian Gray: A silver eyed woman. A masterful painter. A lifelike portrait. And a young English lord who's charisma and good looks are only equaled by his egocentricity. The strange combination weaves a story of blood, lust, and a lifelong ideal that will be questioned beyond the farthest corner of the world.
1. Painting

**Pre Story AN:**

 **Yeah, I've actually got nothing to say here so... jut get reading, I'll see you at the bottom.**

Painting is perhaps, the defining practice for what humans know as the concept of art. A practice over thirty two thousand years old, it has always been one of humanity's most precious tool for representation. In the world's timeline, it has been used to document great events, tell grand tales of magnificent men and women, and for hundreds of years it is how the appearances of people were remembered.

Since it's invention in ancient times, painting has evolved like every other grand idea ever conceived. It has adapted to fits it's present, it has been added onto by different cultures around the world, and it has fluctuated in its presence in the world. But unlike most ideas, painting has mostly remained in style, its beauty and versatility creating an appealing blend that has entranced people for hundreds of years.

The strokes of the brush on the paper, or the sprinkling of tiny particles of paint upon a masterpiece to add texture and feel, the splashing of paint flung onto canvas to create a more chaotic effect. The possibilities of paint were endless, which is what has caused great minds in history to not only respect and love it, but to borderline worship it.

People even created mythologies behind the very basis of the art. That a god wept tears of paint down on the world, and that was the start of it. Or that the practice was taught to a religious master by one of the gods of ancient times, or that the first painting was painted by the Christian God before being placed in the hands of humanity.

But those are just stories of course, in the modern day and age, nobody really believes it.

Traditions of painting were passed down by man. Through guilds, families, and schools alike. Where young children to elderly octogenarians were taught by masters to learn the art. Other times, people would pick up the practice on their own. Discovering at their own pace, the mysteries and wonders of paint. Which they would then go on and apply to great works.

With practice, a painter could gain the skill to become recognized as a master by every man and woman of importance from Madrid to Kyoto. Great painters could even be described as being above the rest of the human race. They were the servants of god's and the mortal's were only blessed to see their skills in reality. The practice was so enamoring.

But no man was more entranced with paint than a young man, who currently stood in one of the wealthiest houses in England. An easel in front of him, paint to his left, and a brush in his right hand.

He was considered the best painter of the nineteenth century, and if fortune favored the man for just another few years, the twentieth as well. He was born to a Greek royal family, the son of a powerful, wealthy, and vindictive man. The family had a history of naming their children from Greek myths, which is why when the painter came along, he was named Apollo.

And though Apollo Theós was no god, it seemed fitting that he, out of all the members of his family, would become a famed painter. Which is what he did. And due to his name, people would joke and laugh behind his back, until they saw his work.

Apollo mostly painted in his own free time, as it was what he enjoyed. Choosing to paint only what he chose. Whether it be a beautiful woman in Damascus or a city square in Vienna, his work was his choice.

Which was why he charged so much for his assigned projects. Enough that few men could afford his services. But some, every once and awhile were able to. And when they did, t was always the same. 'The best you can do, or you won't get paid.'

Which is why Apollo always insisted on quiet serene working conditions. And why he always did his very best, and not just his 'almost but not quite his very best' as he often did on his own.

But this time was different, his employer gave him almost no instructions aside from just to paint his portrait. And that it would be painted in the library.

Apollo made a rare exception for the man, partially because their backgrounds both hailed from the same country, and partially because the man was almost unseemly wealthy.

His paint brush made a gentle stroke down the length of a black gathering of paint on his canvas. This one slightly darker, creating a texture in the material which wasn't there before.

He looked up from his painting, taking another glance at his subject before making some more small touches to the black mass.

The mass in question, was a very expensive suit coat.

He moved his attention up the paper, where there was less detail. He had not focused much on this point yet, and decided to do so. To give the painting a more balanced look, so he could work on it with ease.

He addressed the man in front of him. "Pardon me, my lord. But could you turn your head slightly to the left?"

In front of him, his subject stood quite still. His right hand lay gently on a desk which was to his front, and to his side due to his diagonal stance. Behind him, the chair for the desk sat empty, but close enough to make it possible for him to sit in if he so desired.

He was dressed expensively, as rich men often are. His shoes and pants were black, his shirt was a black with small intricate patterns of a slightly different shade of black. A black glove donned his right hand, which held the other glove and a decades old walking stick. The pommel, a silver wolf's head.

His vest was black, and the suite coat over it was black as well. However his undershirt was a deep red, and a gold chained pendant hung from his neck. It was the family's coat of arms, a black sword crossed with a black revolver, on a black shield, with a black oval background.  
And the man's black hair, down to the top of his back when let out, was tied into a wolf's tail which hung between his shoulder blades.

His head turned left ever so slightly towards Apollo. The man, calmly raised an eyebrow. Still looking straight ahead.

"A little more, sir." Apollo spoke again.

He moved his head a little more.

Apollo hesitated, thinking a moment before repeating his instructions.

Now the young man's head was facing more towards Apollo, than towards the desk. His lips quirked into a slight smile, and his eyes glinted in the light of a nearby lamp.

Apollo nodded. Perfect.

And he went back to painting.

It was eery how the young man in front of him stilled himself for the third time that day. His face locked it's features, his arms and legs snapped to stillness, and his chest barely moved when he took a breath. He was like a statue.

But Apollo tried to ignore it, and immersed himself with his task. Trying to think about what would be his at the end of the day.  
Because the young man in front of him, was not only one of the wealthiest in England. He also wasn't exactly known for his boundless generosity.

- **Line Break** -

The wheels on Lord Zeus Theós' personal carriage rattled over the cobblestones of London's city streets with an unrelenting frequency that is usually only equaled by the frequency of which the upper class of England waste money.

But despite the incredible discomfort of the driver, the passengers inside were remarkably comfortable. Well, one of them at least. Lord Zeus sat serenely, his eyes closed in a blissful half sleep. His daughter on the other hand, was quite different.

She was in a bit of a circumstance. She was trying to severely loosen her corset, which was limiting her ability to breath, and at the same time trying to make sure she wouldn't wake her father in the process. The man was not only a light sleeper, but also quite strict when it came to anything involving his daughter. Which clashed quite sharply with her unusually rebellious personality.

There was a reason that her brother Apollo often spent as much time as possible away, working on projects.

She nearly jumped when she heard her father snort, and shot back into an upright position. Straightening her back, looked forward, and taking a deep breath. Or as deep a breath as she could.

But instead her father simply turned his head the other way and continued dosing. His beard folded up against his face as he leaned down.

She relaxed her body. _It was just a snore._ Though her father insisted he never did.

"Artemis." This time the girl properly did jump. Her father had righted himself and turned his body to face her.

On his face was a firm expression. A cross between the smile of a loving father, and the look that someone gives a dog if he thinks it may do something bad.

"How are you feeling, my girl?" He asked, his voice well mannered.

"I am fine, father." She responded likewise. "I have enjoyed the trip. It has been gorgeous. I never knew that the English countryside could be so breathtaking." The last part was not a lie. Artemis was actually quite fond of the wilderness. Whether it be England, Damascus, or even the north of Africa. She somehow always found something to love in it.

"Yes, hasn't it." Her father said. He combed a hand through his thick graying hair, straightening it to a more regal shape. "England is always said to be lovely around this time of year."

 _Like you care about natural beauty._ Artemis thought bitterly, but was far too smart to say it out loud. Her father had inherited the family trait of exceptional violent temper. It was the number one thing she detested about her heritage. That and the fact that each woman was expected to bear two or three children at the least, the arranged marriages, and the devout alcoholism that followed each generation.

There were some people that she knew said that she had received it too. The violent temper that is. Though she vigorously denied it at all points. Her brother had however not gotten this attribute, and that was agreed by quite literally everyone who had met the man. Sometimes she got jealous, but knew how little sense it made to get so.

"I decided that we should take a quick detour through the outskirts of London, before heading out to our country house. Give us time to see the city life, examine the average folk. Get a glimpse of how they live, because…?" He trailed off, waiting for her to finish.

She sighed. "Because if we don't understand how they act, then we can never claim to be above them." She said, forced. Outside she smiled, slightly more on the inside she locked her jaw.

"Exactly." Rumbled her father, actually sounding happy. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "That's my clever girl." He chuckled.

Then he leaned back, and all remote signs of affection were gone in an instant. "We will be stopping at the House of Gray to take your brother with us to our manor." He said, pulling the window shade down to let in some additional light. "Then we will go to our new home."

"And how far away is this, House of Black, father?" Artemis asked.

"Oh not to long. It's roughly a mile from our own manor. The same man owns the land in fact, he is the one who is allowing our use of the house." said Zeus.

"And he's just letting us use it,just like that, father?" Artemis asked, not confused because she was not expecting the answer to her question to be 'yes'.

"Oh no, no, no." Zeus said, chortling though it wasn't in fact that funny. "No, he required recompense of course. The lords of England are hardly that generous."

Artemis breathing became more difficult. "And… what is this recompense, father."

He looked at her and she swallowed thickly. "You're brother was asked to paint the Lord Black's portrait, he asked for the best and he got it."

Artemis let out a breath, though she did it silently. _Thank the gods, not what I thought it be._ "That's why he's at the house, father."

"Of course!" Zeus exclaimed. "Why else would he be?"

"No reason, father. Just curious." Artemis answered, settling back in her seat. Her father kept looking at her a moment. And she hoped that he wouldn't speak again. Eventually he shrugged and turned away, looking out his window.

She turned and looked out her own, the city of London revolved around her. People would turn and look their way whenever they passed, they would bow, and some would wave.

She did her best to return the pleasantries. Through a wave of her own, or just a smile. But eventually it got tiresome, they spend thirty minutes in London and whenever someone waved when they past she felt obligated to do it in return.

Eventually the carriage left London, and they were brought back into the world of nature. The green English highlands soon came to surround them and in the distance they saw expensive houses and small villages dot the landscape.

Artemis knew she fell asleep because the next thing she knew, her father was shaking her awake. She opened her eyes and saw that they had stopped, and took her fathers hand to be half led half pulled out of the cart.

She nodded to the driver in thanks, before looking at her surroundings. They were in a stone driveway, which formed a semicircle back the way they came, surrounding a lush green circle of life. A large tree stood at the center.

Around them were gardens, well kept and and gorgeous. Overflowing with color and beauty. Not what one would expect in the grounds of a man named Gray.

Her breath caught when she saw the house, and she was not usually one for architectural beauty. That was her half sister's realm of pleasure. But the age old architecture combined with the vines that grew on the walls and the decorative furnishings to the exterior made a house for which anyone would be jealous.

"Come on, my dear." Her father called, and Artemis realized he had up to the front door without her realizing. She nodded and walked quickly after him.

Lord Zeus raised his right hand and gave a firm knock to the door. A few seconds passed before the clicking of the locks being open sounded from behind, and the door swung inwards. A middle aged man, his brown hair turning gray by his ears, opened the door.

He smiled thinly and bowed to them. "My lord, my lady." He greeted. "Welcome to the House of Gray. His lordship has been waiting with Sir Apollo. Please, do come this way." He turned and began walking through the house.

Her father nodded to the man and set off after him, Artemis right behind. She wasn't sure what to think of the man, he wasn't inviting but he also was a butler. That was to say, his tone had reason, but she still didn't like it.

Her father whistled as they stepped into the main hall from the front room, "This house is marvelous." He said.

"It was built originally in twelve, ninety one by Sir William Gray. A former army general and architectural master." The butler said. "It has been rebuilt many times since then. Most recently, when the late Lord Robert Gray decided to give the house one last taste of his spirit before he died. That was twenty years ago. His son was just six years old."

"And he inherited the manor on the spot? Is that how the English do it?" Zeus asked, slightly affronted.

"No, the house fell into the care of Lord Robert's also late wife when he died. And she controlled it until their son was of proper age." The butler stopped and turned. "Which in this country is eighteen."

"Ah." Her father responded. And the three continued to walk. The servant continued to point out parts of the house and explain the history. After A brief tour, the three arrived outside a set of closed doors. They were dark and made of wood, expensively so. From inside, Artemis could hear two voices. They were just mutterings at first, until she got closer.

"-ou my lord." She recognized the first one, her brother's voice was young and barely of age. Just like the man himself.

"And that would be your father and sister outside, you may go and speak with them a moment. Then I wish to as well." The second voice must have been Lord Gray. As her brother had probably just finished the portrait, or perhaps he was about to.

Quick footsteps sounded to the door, the butler nodded to the two Greek royals and took his leave. Then the door opened and Apollo walked out, throwing his arms around his sister who returned the hug. Though not quite as strongly. He then released her and moved on to his father. Addressing them both.

"It's good to see the two of you again." He said, happily. "I have missed you both."

"As I have, my son." Said Zeus. "And we will have time for a reunion later. Right now, you have a man to introduce us to."

"There will be no need for that, Lord Zeus." The voice called out from the room. "Enter, the three of you." Zeus looked at Apolo a moment before doing as the man half requested, half demanded.

The room was large, book shelves filled the far end and the walls all the way to the door. There was space for windows and a skylight, but the rest was solid literary material. A small set of furniture sat in the center and a desk near the door.

There was another in the far corner, mostly blocked from view by her brothers easel.

In front of the easel stood a man, who turned as they entered. His green eyes glinted in the light.

He did not move, or step to meet them. Instead he just inclined his head slightly. Her father did the same, though with a little more hesitation.

Then the man smiled a thin lipped smile. "I can introduce myself. Lord Zeus, Apollo and Artemis Theós," This time he nodded to them. "My name, is Perseus Gray."

 **AN:**

 **Yes yes I know, it's another story and I still haven't done much with the first two. But don't worry, this is the last new story I'll be putting up for awhile. I just really wanted to get this idea out there.**

 **This story will probably be updated the slowest of my three, unless I get a strong demand to do otherwise. I have the least knowledge of where I'm going to go with this one and how much of the original story by Oscar Wilde I'm going to include in this.**

 **By the way, if you're in to intelligent and witty writing I strongly recommend you go and read the original novel, The Portrait of Dorian Gray. It is a masterpiece  
**

 **Anyway after this longer than usual AN, until next time, this is Hemlock Stones signing off.**


	2. The Portrait Itself

**AN:**

 **Like I promised, rapid fire update. I at last decided on how I wanted to do this chapter. But fair warning, enjoy it because there may not be another one for this story in awhile. This story really requires a tone of debate with myself. It's not all fun.**

Perseus Gray bent down and gave a small bow. His hands spread slightly to the side, in the fashion of formality. A customary move among aristocracy.  
Artemis sized him up. He was young, probably about the same age as her. Between twenty four and twenty eight. Despite the color which took the place of his last name, there was not a single spec of gray on him. It was black and red all the way down, with hints of gold that dotted the clothing in the form of buttons, a gold pendant, and a watch chain.

Her eyes met his, and with one glance she could tell he knew exactly what she was doing. His lips curled slightly into a smile as he straightened up. It wasn't warm. It was charming, charismatic, and good looking, and it was anything but inviting.

He moved smoothly as he put one foot in front of the other, practically gliding over to the three Greek nobles. He stopped in front of Artemis' father, his expression reverting back to a deadpan as he met his gaze perfectly. Zeus' eyes flitted back in forth as he stood somewhat nervously before the young man.

Suddenly the smile was back, and he thrust his hand forward, held open. "A pleasure to meet you in person, my Lord Theós."

Zeus went to meet the gesture, but stopped quickly and changed his position, in order to fit with Perseus' left handedness.

"Indeed, Lord Gray. I find that communicating through other people can be rather tiring. There's no quality of conversation." The two released each others hands.

"Quite true, Lord Theós, quite true," Perseus dipped his head slightly. "As I stated, it is a pleasure to finally meet you and your family in person. That being said…" The lord pivoted on his foot, to face Artemis. She turned slightly as well so the two were facing each other.

With a step he was in front of her. The smile still on his face. He took her hand, and she resisted the urge to shiver slightly when his hand touched hers. It was ice cold.

"A pleasure, my lady." He pressed his lips to the back of her hand in formality, then stood and let go.

Artemis quickly returned her hand to her side. "Likewise, Lord Gray." She nodded curtly and expressed a smile of her own to match his.

By his expression, he took note of both of her actions. He made a small noise in the back of his throat and turned back towards Zeus. Who Artemis could see, had to wipe a disapproving look from his face with startling speed. But not fast enough to beat the lord Gray.

"Something the matter, my lord?" He asked, innocently. Obeying the English law of politeness, but also using it to add on a little snark. _(And yes, that is indeed a royal term.)_

"Of course not, Your Grace"  
Perseus clapped his hands together. "I am glad to hear it, Lord Theós. And if there is nothing that needs pressing attention, I suppose we move on. We have some… items to discuss, after all. We shall do it in the sitting room."

Perseus had already struck Artemis as several things. Overconfident, politely rude somehow, and more than a little eccentric. She raised her eyebrow slightly at the man's demeanor before chastising herself. _This is England after all, and he's a lord. What was I doing thinking that he'd be sane._

"I assume Bartlett told you a bit about the house? He's rather keen on doing that with all new arrivals." Voices echoed in the hallway more so than in the library. The sound waves free to bounce off the smaller space.

"Yes, he did, your Grace." Zeus said from behind him. "He told us you recently renovated it. From what I can see, you did a fantastic job."

"I based the job on a painting I saw by an Italian named…ah, his name escapes me, but the styling brought about the foundation for this design. I drew up the rest."

The main hall once again greeted them as they stepped out in to it. Zeus took a moment to look around, clearly impressed with the house. "How much did this cost you, lord Gray?"

"Oh, not much. I knew some people, and called in a few favors. It totaled not much less than the house probably cost to be built. And that includes our country's inflation."

"Astounding."

"Yes. I suppose it is."

Perseus stopped in front of a pair of rich oak doors. Reaching forward with both hands, he turned the handles to each door and flung them open before stepping inside. Artemis followed him, looking around the room. It was gorgeous. Decorated by someone who knew what they were doing. Marked by Perseus rich taste of decoration.

Artemis didn't especially want to admit it, but she liked the room considerably. She stepped aside to allow room for Apollo to walk past her.

The lord of the manor stepped around the furniture and spun clockwise, catching himself on a desk. Where he proceeded to rest his right arm. He brought his arm forward and vaguely pointed towards the center of the room.

"Please, have a seat."

The three Greeks did as invited. Zeus and Apollo sat down on the couch, while Artemis took a chair. Perseus remained standing, and in fact he pushed himself off the desk and began walking around the room. No specific destination, just walking.

"Did you have a chance to see the house before you came here, Lord Zeus?"  
"No, we did not, your Grace" The Greek turned slightly to follow Perseus movements. "We planned to see it after we stopped here. It's a mile to the west, correct?"

"Yes, quite close to being exactly so, in fact. My great grandfather measured out the distance himself. Which explains the close proximity, and the fact that it wasn't quite correct. My grandmother was always telling him to hire professionals, but- ah." The door opened and the butler, now known as having the name Bartlett, stepped into the room with his hands behind his back.

"Your Grace," he bowed. "We have brought the painting. Shall we bring it in."

Perseus clapped his hands together and walked over to the man. "Ah, excellent, excellent. Of course, bring it in. Put it on the prepared stand." Artemis' eyes darted to a structure of wood that stood not to far from herself.

Perseus and Bartlett stood to the side as a man walked in, very carefully carrying Apollo's painting. He weaved around the furniture to avoid damaging the portrait and very carefully set it down on the stand. Adjusting it to make it even on it's seat.

Perseus thanked the three men and dismissed them, taking a few moments to look at the portrait. Artemis did so as well. The eyes, signature to her brother's style, stared forward and yet still off to the side of the painting. Perseus smiled quickly and stepped forward, turning to imitate the exact position that the painted version of himself had.

The similarity was impeccable.

Apollo's demeanor had changed from politely deadpan, to slightly nervous at the fact that the painting was already on display. Even though it was in a rather exclusive place. Despite being a well known master painter, he was also well known for being insecure about his work. Not a particularly useful trait in his profession.

Perseus smiled as he gazed at 'himself'. "A wonderful piece, Sir Apollo. You have well earned your pay"

"Thank you, Your Grace." The young man answered, bowing with his head. Considerably less tense from just those five words. Well, four words and a name to be precise.

"Now, Bartlett, would you bring the four of us some red wine. I believe it's sufficiently late enough in the afternoon." Perseus raised his eyebrow at Zeus. "Would you agree, my lord."  
He furrowed his eyebrows. It looked something like two storm clouds moving together. "Well, I don't know, Lord Perseus." He turned towards Bartlett. What time is it, sir?"

The man pulled a watch from his pocket. "About half past five, my lord."

"Good grief, later than I though." Perseus mused. "Well, my lord? How about that drink?"

"In the case of the time, I think it's a marvelous idea, Lord Perseus. Red wine helps circulate my system, you see?" He said happily. Though Artemis knew it was just as much a response to please the Englishman, as a reason to have an alcoholic beverage.

"I do…" Perseus trailed off. "Actually, I don't follow. Never heard of that being a medication for such, my lord." His eyes fluttered as he remembered something. Turning to Bartlett he said, "Oh yes, the wine. Please fetch it, as well as four glasses, will you Bartlett?"

"Yes, your grace." The man bowed and walked from the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

"I assume that all three of you drink wine?" The young gentleman rested his hand on the back of an empty chair. However his stance stated, quite pointedly, that he wouldn't be sitting down.

"Yes, of course, Your Grace."

"Good, because the quantity of wine that is being retrieved wouldn't be sensible for any less than four people," he shut his eyes a moment. "We have much to discuss, my lord."

"Indeed, Your Grace. Starting with-" The door opened, cutting off the Greek, and Bartlett returned with a tray, upon which were two bottles of wine and four elegant glasses. Each one marked with a different, lightly carved, pattern.

Perseus took the one with the wolf's head.

"The house should be up to par with your usual standards," He held out his glass for Bartlett to fill. "There is a private bathroom for each one of the five bedrooms. A servant's house, just to the left of the main house, in which the cook, the groundskeepers, the maids, and the driver will live."

"We have already have a driver." Artemis meant to say this to herself, but somehow it managed to make its way out through her mouth.

Three faces turned to her. She met one of them. Perseus Gray had an odd expression on his face, but nevertheless stared straight back at her.

"In that case, there will be no quarrel if two of you want to go to different places, at the same time, my lady." He said the words smoothly, but she could hear an underlying tone of something else.

"This is very generous of you, Your Grace." Her father said, chuckling. It was the sort of chuckle that was made up of embarrassment as well as a small dose of fear. The sort people use when someone had just screwed up, and it was now up to them to make sure that they didn't do it again, lest bad things happen. Artemis knew this.

Perseus gave a small 'hm' and took another drink. The red liquid draining from the glass ever so slowly, a telltale sign of the upper class everywhere.

"I suspect you will like the staff, at least, I suspect that you will not hate them. They work hard and work on time, I assume those are traits you appreciate, my lord."

"Well, what bloody good is a servant if they don't, Your Grace? Hur Hur." Zeus had a laugh like a bull clearing his throat. And it was made all the more awkward by his quite noticeable forced usage of English slang. Artemis flinched in her seat, wondering when she should tell her father that only the middle and lower class used slang in England, and that even she knew it.

"Hur, hur," Lord Gray said solemnly, and took another sip of wine. Bartlett hovered bat like over his shoulder, bottle poised to fill at a wits notice. Perseus pretended not to notice him.

"You shall often find that the I have hand picked each of the servants, to the best specifications." Perseus smiled, a thin lipped smile. It made him look, just a bit, like a bastard.

"And...er...how will we 'find' that to be the case, Your Grace."

Apollo muttered something about poetry under his breath. Perseus ignored him too.

"Let's just say that looking at those of the female variety will be far from a burden on your mind. Quite the opposite in fact. It may even seem to strengthen the muscles of which all men use to think with." He chuckled shortly. Then after a moment of silence he did so again, this time with more duration.

Artemis froze. Her mouth dropped slowly open, she knew that nobs weren't known to be the best of people, but to be so blatantly rude towards women. She had hopped better

"Ah," Zeus taped his nose and adorned a mischievous smile. "Of course, Your Grace. I understand, how gracious of you to part with them for our… aha pleasure."

"Or disgust." Artemis hissed before she could stop herself. One again, three pairs of eyes looked directly at her, and one pair of eyes noticeably didn't.

Perseus cocked his head, he for a moment, looked like a dog. Curious, and yet somewhat intrigued at the same time. Two emotions that should be more or less one and the same, yet somehow were separated by that one mannerism. "Pardon me, Miss."

"I'm not sure if I will." She continued, ignoring her father, who was making rapid motions with his hands. Entirely avoiding inconspicuousness. "Why don't you just shove the women in front of us stark naked and beckoning?!"

At this point, Zeus was doing his best job to keep his face from turning a violent red. Apollo just stared at her in shock. Artemis couldn't blame him, she had, after all, gone from complete silence, to frightening rage in ten seconds.

Perseus tapped his fingers together, hands held in front of him, his eyes were trained directly on hers. She stared back at him, her eyes a turmoil of offense and anger. The sight that met her nearly caused her to double over and vomit, or start blushing red. His eyes twinkled as he looked at her, and his pupils dilated.

Then she saw his mouth widen and she realized that he was by far, the better starer.

"I apologize if I have offended you, miss. I feel it a crime to treat beauty so poorly." He said, setting his wine glass on the butlers tray. "Please, led me amend my mistake."

Now she was even angrier. See a woman mad with offense to herself and her entire gender, what does he do? He treats her like a flower. A court girl.

"No need." She said coolly. His glare may have gone but hers didn't. "And _don't_ call me beautiful."

"And why not. Do you have an allergy to truth, or at least matter of opinion?" His voice somehow sounded genuine, while saying a combination of words that sounded like they could only have come from a Tudor.

"No."

"Or perhaps you find beauty an insult," he continued. "You hate to be referred to as such. Because to you, beauty stands as something that never grows never changes. Although…" he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That would mean you object to immortality."

The sharp change in the conversational winds was enough to throw everyone out of their various moods, even Artemis, though she tried not to let herself be distracted, was forced to dissipate her rage. The three Greeks all looked somewhat glassily towards the Englishman, who seemed to have forgotten their existence.

Apollo was the first to still his mind. He cleared his throat lightly. There was no response.

Bartlett leaned down and tapped Perseus on the shoulder. The young lord was jolted from his thoughts. He looked at Bartlett a moment, before he was directed to Apollo. "Yes, my lord Apollo?"

"What did you mean by that, Your Grace."

"By what?" Artemis eyes widened slightly, he didn't sound like he was fooling.

"By 'objecting to beauty would mean objecting to immortality'. What… did you mean what you just said, Your Grace."

Perseus looked at him strangely for a moment. Then another. And then yet another. And that moment gave birth to a dozen smaller moments, in which Perseus looked through slightly squinted eyes at the young painter.

He opened his mouth to speak. "Do you… not understand. Or just not believe?" The question wasn't armed with a barb, but it dug in anyway.

It was Artemis' turn to speak. "Well I certainly don't agree. I don't know about belief."

Perseus turned back to her, quickly. "Don't you?" There was a blur of movement, and the young lord rocketed to his feet. Bartlett was already a few steps behind him, as if he was already expecting the moment.

IN two steps Perseus glided around the table and was in front of Artemis. She slid back in her seat, but Perseus reached down and took her hand. Years of formal lessons kicked in, and Artemis found herself standing and following the young man. Her father and Brother stood behind her, but Perseus made to stop them.

His grip wasn't hard on her hand, but it was firm. He didn't pull her, he let her walk at his own pace while he led her across the room. Something which she found herself regretfully appreciating in him. That and his hands were no longer quite as cold as before. But the tingling was still there.

Then he turned back to face her, letting go of her hand. She was stared at by two of him. On in person, and one in the portrait, which now sat two feet in front of her. Her father and brother not to far away.

"Allow me to explain, beauty." The young man whirled around, laying his left hand behind the painting. "See this portrait. The portrait that you brother so masterfully painter just earlier today. Already it has aged. The paint's have dried and the piece has become more stiff as the paint and paper combine further. The colors have settled, and the product is finished. Voila." he spread his other arm out and smiled at the painting

"Er, isn't that a type of instrument, Your Grace?" Her father asked meekly from the background. Perseus spared him a slight glance.

"But has it really aged? How do we, as humans determine age. Simple, when time, which is one of our most genius inventions, passes in it's cycle, we say that things become older. We know that things become older because their appearance changes. Even if it is slight, and even if it is internal," he tapped his skull thoughtfully. "If you saw a man, who, throughout your life, always looked exactly the same. Just like when you first met him, would you say he had aged, Artemis." The use of her first name left a strange feeling in her brain. It just sounded, different than anything she had heard before.

"Well...no." She answered, mumbling her words.

"No, of course you wouldn't. It would betray the fact that you are human. Because he never looked any different, he would be immortal. Now, for another example, take…" he trailed off, silent for a moment. Then his eyes lit up, and a smile lit his face. "This painting. Once again, we turn to it."

And turn he did, in a whirling of clothing, he turned toward the painting once again, Artemis did so as well.

"My image will forever be immortalized in this painting," he said. "It will never age, it will never grow weak, it will never loose its, aha, charm, feel, or beauty. It will be, immortal. And, I will forever be immortal in it. Living forever within the bounds of a simple frame," he stopped. His gaze turned upwards, and he nodded, as if approving an idea. "Then again, we all live in a frame. The frame which life provides for us, and perhaps, somehow there is a way to change the frame. To expand it. Yet to keep it the same, make it immortal, and it shall do the same to you, Just like, in this painting." His fingers ran down it's length before jumping off.

Artemis had long since fallen silent. And from the expressions of her brother and father, they shared the same exact thought as her. Which was, precisely, nothing. There were times, when no matter what, sometimes there is just nothing to be thought of.

Perseus was still staring at the painting. His eyes hating to leave the canvas. But eventually they did. He looked at each member of the room and smiled. Then he bounced on the balls of his feet and clapped his hands together.

"Well. Now that we've passed a bit of time, broken the ice a bit. I supposed that you should get a look at your house. My lords and ladies, shall we?" And he walked from the room.

 **AN:**

 **Well, that's that chapter done. And for those of you who can analyze stories really well (or who know the original story) The stories main plot was just introduce in this chapter. If you don't know it, don't worry, it will become clear as the story goes on. I'm not so cruel as to make it incredible vague.**

 **The next update will probably be for Contrary to Popular Belief. Of which I am thinking about changing the title, because it was a joke that I was hoping someone would get and no one seemed to have. I'm not too surprised though, it was incredibly obscure. So, maybe I'll put up a poll, as pathetic as the results would be. God, now I have to make a poll on whether or not I should have a poll.**

 **Maybe I'll create the latter poll, it would be kind of amusing.**

 **Anyway, until next time, this is Hemlock Stones signing off.**


	3. The House and the Garden

**AN:**

 **Yeah, yeah, it's been awhile. I know. I apologize. Thank you to those of you who were patient. And that patience is, if not well rewarded, then decently so.**

Perseus Gray bid the three nobles farewell outside the main door of the house, handing them over to a driver, one that was different from the one that brought them there.

Gray lay a hand on the man's shoulder. Which only required him lifting it from his side. "This is Mr. Leonardo Valdez. An American, smart mouthed and as much of a bastard as they come."

"Your Grace." Valdez chirped happily.

"He'll drive you to and from places. He knows all of the country round here so don't be afraid to ask for directions, I know how the Greeks hate to do that."

"Not to mention men in general." Artemis muttered lowly. If Perseus heard her, he didn't show it.

"So he'll be staying with us, Your Grace?" Her father asked.

"Yes. As well as the rest of your staff, who are all waiting for you at your destination. One of them will show you around the house."

"Erm, you're not coming, Your Grace?"

"No. I have business to attend to, lord Zeus, but will remain in touch," Perseus gave him a curt nod. "Excellent meeting you, my lords. My lady." He bowed lowly to Artemis, his eyes carefully meeting hers precisely a moment longer than was comfortable, before he walked back into the Gray House.

Each of the three stared after him. Well, two stared, one glared. Artemis' silver eyes blazed with fury. She saw the gaze he gave her, and was intelligent enough to realize that it had more than one meaning.

Behind her, the pint-sized cab driver bounced on the balls of his feet and clapped his hand together. An elfish grin spread across his face. "Well, my lords and my good lady, shall we be going?"

Unlike most servants that the three had seen in the past, he didn't bow, he didn't wait, he simply turned around and jumped onto the front of the cab. A feat that must have been at least somewhat difficult due to his reasonably short stature.

The three all shared a similar glance, and then one by one all stepped up into the cab. Apollo, being the last to enter, shut the door behind him. The cab had an open top so Valdez turned back and looked at them questioningly.

"Well? You lords, ready to go?"

"Erm. Yes, we are. Drive along, my good man." said Zeus.

The driver gave him a strange look, before turning back to the front, giving the reigns a slight whip.

"We'll be at the house in about fifteen minutes, lords. It's a lovely place, You can't miss it. Well, unless you're facing the opposite direction. You can't curve ball arrows like that."

"Greece has guns, driver." Artemis said thinly. Apparently Leo Valdez was a 'funny' man.

He turned around, with a look of surprise. "Really? I thought you all used bows or spears or something'' like that," he cracked the reins again.

"Spears?" As if one infuriatingly stoic man wasn't enough. Most people would say that Artemis had a temper. There was a reason for that. Though all through time, people have been known to get more edgy than they should when their country has been offended. Even in the smallest way.

"Guns? Hm. Interesting," The driver seemed to have no intention of acknowledging her further than he really cared to. "Now… do you know what trains are?"

The rest of the ride went in a similar fashion. The driver poking fun at Greece, painting, the color silver, and even Zeus' beard. It was a wonder how he had survived so long in service to the individuals that made up his clientele.

As the cab turned left off of the main road, murder was in the planning stage among the three passengers of the vehicle.

The side road was much thinner than the main, and packed with gravel and dirt instead of smoothed cobblestones. Overhead, leaves shaded the path, branches crisscrossing from trees on either side. Liquid sunlight dripped down each leaf and finally fell in splintered factions down to the earth.

"Now, the house will be coming up on your left in a minute. Everything you see around you qualifies as the grounds. They're perfect for everything from hide and seek, to arson. Or so I've heard at least." Valdez grinned again, or he would have, if he had ever stopped grinning in the first place. The man's teeth were practically an external feature.

"Lord Gray took the liberty of having the gardens shred up before you arrived. The gardener and the main butler will be waiting for you when we arrive. You can't miss them. The butler is the sullen looking man, and the gardener is the girl who's more than easy on the eyes," Valdez winked. "And she's got five sisters who look near the same, in that certain way, if you know what I mean."

He very pointedly let his eyes linger of Artemis, letting her know that her death stare wasn't going to work on him. He was an honest working class man, and had nothing to be ashamed of. At least, he didn't think so anyway.

Emerging from the trees, each man and women were bathed in sunlight and the house came into view. Two stories tall, it was the epitome of an English country house. Artemis didn't show it, but she was impressed.

The three nobles each got out of the ca, but turning back they found Valdez hadn't moved.

"Well here we are. Home sweet house. Now, I'm going to go put the cab under the awning, and water up the horses. You nobs will have to hob nob around the house with the other two." He gave the reigns a slight flick. "Toodle loo!" The cab jerked forward and bounced unevenly around the side of the house.

Artemis snorted in disgust. "What a rude boy."

Apollo cleared his throat. "I think he was older than you, Arty."

The painter's sister stared daggers at him. "You know…"

"My Lords and ladies!"

The siblings potential bicker was quenched, and a young man walked out from the house and down the steps to them. A mop of blond hair sat atop his head, carefully greased back to make it look neat. He dressed nicely, but not expensively in a black suit. A rusted watch chain hung from the pocket of his vest.

"I presume you three are the family Theós?" He looked at them expectantly.

Zeus cleared his throat. "Yes, and who are you?"

"Ah, forgive me, I should have introduced myself upon first sighting you three. My name is Castellan. Luke Castellan. I am head of staff here. And I shall do my best to assist you as I can, during your stay." Luke Castellan rose up onto his toes and clicked his heels together brightly.

Zeus nodded towards him. "I see. And, you knows these grounds, I assume."

"Of course. And the house as well."

"If you would then, show us around." The noble gestured towards the house.

Castellan nodded. "Of course, my lord. Follow me." He turned back to the house and walked up the steps.

Zeus and Apollo began to follow him, but Artemis remained in her spot. Apollo turned back to her.

"Sister, aren't you coming?"

"No, I'm going for a walk."

Apollo looked concerned. "Art-"

"No. I just want to go for a walk. Go with father." Artemis' tone left no room for debate. And neither did her glare, both of which Apollo keenly recognized.

With one final glance at his sister, Apollo walked up the steps and into the house, shutting the door behind him.

Artemis sighed, letting out a long breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding. She looked around her, the sounds of life among the plants was endless. But none of it sounded like a human.

She began to walk, allowing her mind to cleanse itself of everything that bothered her. For the time being, she was at peace. No brother, no father, and no arrogant lord to bother her for the time being.

The gardens were beautiful. Someone had spent a long time caring for them, and nurturing them into adulthood. Each plant looked pristine and healthy, nothing looked ill. IT was almost as if every god ever created had come down and blessed the place.

Artemis came upon a clearing, the grass sloping gently up into a hill. At the top there was a tree.

It was ancient, and huge. Towering over the rest of the grounds, casting patterned shadows everywhere with it's leaves. She walked over to its base, looking up. It was an apple tree. Apples hung from the branches everywhere. More than should have been possible.

She blinked, where some of the apples… gold?

"Excuse me?"

Artemis turned, jumping in surprise. Slightly down the hill there was a girl, couldn't have been older than sixteen. She looked up at her curiously. She was dressed in work clothes, her dark hair tied up to keep it from hanging down and getting in the way. In her right hand a bucket, in her left a pair of shears.

"Pardon me, but who are you?" She asked meekly. Artemis noted her grip on the shears. Her knuckles were white.

Artemis took a half step forward and the girl took a half step back. She didn't try to move any further. She held up her hands peacefully. "My name is Artemis. Myself and my family were invited to stay at this house.

The girl lowered the shears. "You're lady Artemis?" The girl placed the bucket on the ground and bowed. "It is an honor to meet you, my lady."

The girl straightened back up. Artemis safely took a few steps towards her. "Thank you… and what is your name?"

The girl bowed again. "Zoë, my lady."

"Do you have a last name?" Artemis asked.

Zoë shook her head. "Not that I know, my lady." She said, a touch sadly.

Artemis felt pity for her. The amount of servants who had no idea of their original identities or origins was astoundingly high. Many of them were born into service, some were just born and abandoned and never given a real name.

Artemis changed the subject. "I see gardening tools in your hand. Do you tend to the grounds."  
"Oh, yes, my lady. I have all my life," She looked around. "They are my pride and joy."

Artemis took the meaning of her last words. "You mean… you've done this alone?"

"Yes, my lady. Ever since my sisters went to work on the main house. I think… two years ago. When I was fourteen."

Artemis was astounded. The grounds weren't huge, but they were sisable enough, and in incredible shape. "How do you do it?"

The girl shrugged helplessly. "It's what I've done all my life."

The two young women walked through the garden in silence. Artemis strolling leisurely, admiring everything she passed, and Zoë hovering around her, poised to follow any command. She practically a hummingbird.

"You can stop that, you know." said Artemis.

Zoë glanced at her. "Stop what, my lady."

"That. That attitude of servitude. You don't have to have it all the time. Have I been treating you as one?"

The girl hesitated a moment before answering. "No, my lady."

"Then you don't have to do it."

Zoë had a difficult expression on her face. She seemed to be trying to figure out how to say something. "You see, my lady. It's not really… that… simple."

Artemis looked at her, confused. The girl continued. "I'm not sure how it is, um, where you came from. But here, servants can… be punished if they… um… don't follow precedent."

Artemis stopped. The girl looked oddly cowed. Not just a servant trying not to push a line, but a servant afraid of something further.

Artemis didn't ask but she could tell. She had more than just knowledge, she had experience.

To let the girl of the hook, she feigned a yawn. Immediately Zoe's head perked up.

"Are you tired, my lady?" She asked.

Artemis nodded. "It's been a long trip."

Zoë gestured back towards the house. "I can show you to your room. If you want, that is, my lady."

Artemis nodded. "That would be nice. Thank you, Zoë."  
She took pleasure in noticing how the girls expression brightened. "Of course, my lady. Right this way." The girl turned and started walking, looking behind her to make sure Artemis was following.

They walked through the front door, Zoë being careful to step around the rug in the main hall so she wouldn't stain it with mud. A couple of servants gave them a glance before returning to their jobs.

The house was nice, not as nice as House Gray but it still held an appeal that Artemis was able to recognize. She especially appreciated it wasn't as boasting of it's wealth as the other one was. It was more… modest.

Zoë led her to a room on the second floor and opened a door at the end of one of the halls. "This is your room, my lady. Unless your family has decided anything differently, this was the plan we were told."

Artemis nodded. "Of course, thank you Zoë. I hope we can get to know each other better in the future."

A smile graced the girls lips, but her expression was strange. She wasn't used to compliments. "Thank you, my lady." She bowed slightly and walked back down the hall.

Artemis closed the door gently. She sighed as the day fully caught up to her. Even the meeting with Lord Gray had already seemed like days ago. And the hotel she had left in the morning seemed like weeks past.

There was a bed at the far end of the room. She sat down on it, allowing relief to flood her muscles. She sighed and leaned back.

She jerked back up as someone knocked sharply on her door.

"Artemis." She heard her father call to her.

She groaned, and put her face in her hands. _Of Course._

 **AN:**

 **So, lets recap on what happened in this chapter. Nothing. Yeah, this chapter was just to introduce a few characters and give them their house. No real significant plot points. No real development yet. That will all happen at some point in the future.**

 **And now, after an unusually short AN, this is Hemlock Stones signing off.**


	4. AN

**AN: Also known as, the entire document.**

 **Greetings loyal readers, I will start this AN out by apologizing to you all. I have been forced to go on hiatus by unfortunate circumstances.**

 **For those of you who are additionally curious, there is a rather major reason behind this break, and this reason is one I hope that you can all understand. A few days ago, I endured an accident. Presently I am fine, except for one tiny detail. Four of my fingers are currently broke, and two hurt like hell still. I am typing this AN with four fingers across two hands.**

 **Because of this, I will be taking a break from writing, as my current writing process is not only difficult and painful, but it is agonizingly slow. And I feel that I will produce nothing more than filler after filler in this state. So I have deiced to wait until I can type again before continuing. I do not know when this is, but I promise it will be as soon as I can make it.**

 **Thank you for those of you who understand, and once again, than you all for your continuous support on my work. It makes me very happy to see.**

 **One additional thing, I was asked at one point by a fan to make a list of themes for the Percy Jackson characters. I have put that list on my profile. While it is not complete, I will be working on that since it requires very little actual typing. Check it out, and send me a message with what you think, and maybe what you thin could be themes for the characters I haven't included.**

 **Now, without further ado, until next time, this is Hemlock Stones signing off.**


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